


Agnews

by brejamison



Series: Dick Grayson Must Die [7]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Titans (Comics), Titans (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson-centric, Electroconvulsive Therapy, Episode: s01e07 Asylum, Fever, Gen, Hallucinations, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt/Comfort, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Episode: s01e07 The Asylum, Psychological Torture, Psychotropic Drugs, Sickfic, Torture, Vomiting, Whump, and it just happens to be a lot, dick still curses when need be, jason is a smart ass, jason still curses a lot, kory is queen, one long ass sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:08:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23315149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brejamison/pseuds/brejamison
Summary: In which Jason is too late to save Dick and Dr. Adamson from the Organization.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Everyone, Dick Grayson & Garfield Logan, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Koriand'r & Garfield Logan & Raven, Dick Grayson & Raven, Dick Grayson/Koriand'r
Series: Dick Grayson Must Die [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670542
Comments: 4
Kudos: 137





	1. Chapter 1

**CHICAGO**   
**ILLINOIS**

This was it. Robin bounced on the balls of his feet, excitedly waiting for the elevator to arrive. He checked his League phone, triple checking the location. Right above him, a whole bunch of floors up, was Dick-fucking-Grayson, doing his thing and none the wiser to the fact that he was about to be ambushed by a super fan (and his replacement.)

"Butterscotch?" the old lady with the bonsai tree asked suddenly. Jason turned to find her standing directly behind him, politely offering a small candy in a yellow wrapper. 

"Do I look like I want a fucking Butterscotch?" he asked. No he, the young man dressed like a goddamn bird, wearing a mask and equipped with an arsenal of weapons, would _not_ like a butterscotch. What was he, eight? 

The elevator dinged and he rushed in, slamming the marked button. A few floors. A few floors away and he would come face to face with Dick Grayson, the OG Robin, in the flesh. Jason checked his reflection in the shiny door, pressing his mask on and tussling his hair. He had to look good. Had to impress possibly the coolest guy on - or off - the planet.

What felt like an hour later the elevator arrived, doors sliding open. Jason rushed out, grinning wildly. He couldn't help it; the dreams he had since he was a kid were about to come true. 

"Sup, bitches!" 

The apartment was empty. 

"Hel-lo?" he called, poking his head down the stairs to a small kitchen. Something was burning on the stove, chopped vegetables scattered across the counter. Jason took a step forward and slipped on hot oil. He knelt, looking at the splash pattern. A bent pan laid nearby, no doubt the source of the steamy liquid. It hadn't solidified yet, so he knew it was fresh. Very fresh. As in this had happened a few minutes ago fresh. A smashed bottle of champagne told him the same story; it had hardly begun to soak the carpet.

Jason stood. He had been sneaking into Gordon's crime scenes long enough to recognize the signs of a skirmish. And there had been a downright brawl in this room. It looked like a whole bunch of guys against one. Predictably, the group had won by sheer numbers, and the man - and his companion? Were those prints from loafers? - had been taken somewhere. 

A helicopter started above him and Jason snapped up. The roof. 

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Robin exploded onto the roof just as the helicopter took into the sky. "Damnit!" he shouted, bracing against the wind from the blades as he squinted into the cabin. A team of people in riot gear was seated around a somber looking old man. Adamson, most likely - the guy whose name had been on the penthouse. Jason caught sight of a tuft of curly brown hair and cursed loudly. 

Grayson. 

The helicopter rose into the sky, shooting off to the West. 

Jason checked his phone again, confirming that Grayson's signal was onboard. It beeped once before going dead.

"Fuck!" he cursed, pivoting and racing back inside. Without the man's tracker, Jason would have to follow the helicopter. Which would be fine if it didn't already have a _huge_ fucking start on him and if they weren't stuck in the middle of downtown Chicago, full of bridges and one-way streets, and if it wasn't a goddamn _helicopter_.

Traffic laws be damned. Bruce was relying on him and Robin needed him, goddamnit. He would make it work. 

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

**LYNWOOD**   
**ILLINOIS**

**AGNEWS ASYLUM**

Doctor Dawson clipped down the white hallway, security badge clutched in one hand and a metal clipboard in the other. She approached a thick door, slowing long enough for the burly orderlies to nod politely and unlock it. It opened to a large observation room, monitors and computer terminals lined with scientists and researchers, tapping rapidly as they noted their findings. Dawson arrived at the main terminal, a thin pale man pausing to look at her. 

"He's under heavy sedation but should be waking up momentarily," he informed, hands wringing nervously in his lap. 

"We don't have time to sit around waiting. His daughter could be getting further away as we speak," Dawson replied. She leaned forward, pressing the button for the intercom. "Time to wake up, Mr. Grayson." 

Inside a narrow cell on the other side of their many monitors, Dick stirred, twitching as he came back to reality. He was on a tall cot, the mattress thin and stale. The odor of bleach and piss attacked his nose and he coughed to expel it. Groggily, he got himself to his elbows, looking around the room. A strip of skin on his arm pulled and he frowned down at the bandage on his left forearm. 

_"We have already located and disabled the trackers in your person, Mr. Grayson,"_ the voice intoned again and his head shot up. 

"Wh... what trackers?" 

_"Please, Mr. Grayson. We don't have time for games."_

He wheezed, blinking rapidly. The hell was she talking about? Trackers? _In_ his person?

_"Where is the girl?"_

Clumsily, Dick rolled off the bed. He landed on his feet and stumbled to the wall, feeling it. Solid and tall; no punching his way through that one. A pipe hissed overhead and he looked up at it. It was fairly high up but he had one hell of a wingspan. 

_"Where is the girl?"_ she repeated. 

"Where's Adamson?" he replied, picking his way around the small room. The cot took up the majority of the space, forcing most of the wiggle room into the four corners and up the tall walls. Dick craned his neck, eventually spotting the ceiling. Why on earth were the walls so tall? It seemed totally unnecessary. 

_"Dr. Adamson is no longer your concern."_

"What have you done with him?" Make no mistake, Dick wasn't worried in the slightest about the health and welfare of the man. In fact, he didn't want to breathe the same air as him ever again. Dick just had questions that needed to be answered and felt that Adamson would have complied had they not been a minute away from an ambush. "Who are you people?" 

_"We are only interested in the girl, Mr. Grayson. Tell us where she is and you may leave."_

The door buzzed and Dick snapped around to face it. Fists raised and shoulders squared, he prepared for another attack. They had taken him by surprise last time, a mistake he never made twice. 

But the doorway was empty and the heavy implications of it hit him like a punch. _Tell us where the girl is and you may leave._ Dick scoffed, straightening. 

"Fuck you." 

In the control room, Dawson straightened. She was almost impressed by Grayson's stubbornness. Then again, everyone chose the noble path at first. They all wanted to be heroes and were convinced they would do whatever it takes to make that happen. After all, being brave was painless when it was easy. But once the pressure started, they crumbled. They always crumbled. It was only a matter of time. 

"Monitor him closely," she instructed, the nervous man at the terminal nodding obediently. "I have to go make arrangements for step two." 

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Dick had exhausted himself pacing laps of the small room. It was so narrow, turning the corners too fast would make his head spin. Moving had cleared his head, though, the drowsiness of the sedative having worn off hours ago. Now, he was positioned on the floor, leaning against the wall opposite the open door. Head titled against the hard surface, he stared at the gaping hole before him. He wouldn't do it. He wouldn't give up Rachel, no matter what they did. And if they thought that their reverse psychology would work on him they had another thing coming. Mind Games was Bruce's middle name. Hell, Dick had spent a fifth of his life solving puzzles presented by a man who willingly called himself the Riddler for god's sake. There wasn't a game they could play, a trick they could pull, that would get to him. 

Movement sounded outside and Dick straightened. A gate down the hallway clicked open (he knew walking out wouldn't have been that easy) and a small group of people shuffled to his cell. They filled the doorway and Dick worked his jaw, eyes falling on a disheveled looking Adamson secured in the center.

The men made eye contact and the orderlies shoved him inside. Leaving the door open, they turned and disappeared back down the hall. Dick heard the gate click shut again and worked his jaw, staring at the old man before him. 

"What do you want?" he asked, hands tightening into fists. Adamson glanced at the door. "Don't," Dick warned shortly. He was playing the long game and Adamson was not about to go and ruin it. 

Slowly, the man turned back to him, having the gall to look offended. "I know how these people work, Mr. Grayson." He straightened, puffing out his chest and pulling on his vest. "I used to run this facility, after all. Built it from the ground up." 

"Then you can tell me what the hell is going on. Who are you people? And what do you want with Rachel?" 

Adamson turned, casting his eyes to the tall upper corner of the room. Dick frowned and leaned off the wall, spotting what might have been a camera. But he couldn't tell for sure from this distance. "Have you spoken to them?" Adamson inquired and Dick looked at him. 

"No. And I'm not going to, either. So if that's the game you're here to play-"

"That's too bad." The doctor rolled his shoulders, delicately rolling up his sleeves. Every move he made, every little facial tick and word uttered, made Dick feel like he was seven steps behind. Like all of these people spoke a language he couldn't decipher or were in on some grand joke he wasn't a part of. It was maddening. Why couldn't they ever give him a straight answer?

Sleeves properly secured, Adamson tucked his hands behind his back, raising his chin to look at Dick. "Then I'm afraid you've made them quite upset." 

Dick growled, standing and charging the man. "I don't care how upset they are!" He grabbed two fistfuls of Adamson's expensive shirt, pulling him close. "You're going to tell me what's going on, and you're going to do it now!" 

"I'm afraid I can't do that." 

"Bullshit!" Dick spat, shaking him. "You're a prisoner here now, same as me. I heard what you said back at your penthouse. You've been exposed. They're going to kill you." 

"Yes. Yes, they will." 

"So why don't you use your last few moments alive to do something good for once in your life and answer my goddamn questions!" 

Adamson laughed at him. Like, actually laughed at him. Out loud and everything. Dick was stunned into setting him down, backing off slightly.

"Oh, I am terribly sorry, Mr. Grayson. I understand that was quite rude of me," the man chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

"Why, what you said, of course. They aren't going to _kill_ us, My. Grayson. At least, not anytime soon." 

Dick's lip curled and he surged a threatening step forward. "What is that supposed to mean?" 

Adamson straightened his shirt, humored giggles shaking his shoulders. "That's not to say we won't perish at their hands, because I assure you, we will. But believe you me; it will not be a quick process." 

More orderlies charged the open door suddenly and Dick lept back, eager to avoid them. They grabbed Adamson and he went willingly, allowing them to escort him out of the room. Dick, however, wouldn't cooperate so easily. He waited until they got close before slamming his fist into one's face. He was stunned long enough for Dick to kick him back into the rest. They stumbled over their coworker and Dick rounded the cot, putting it between him and them. With a kick it was sent soaring into the group, the short distance making the blow all the more powerful. 

He looked up as more flooded the doorway.

"Don't fight it, Mr. Grayson," Adamson called from outside. Dick ignored him, delivering as many punches and blows as he could. Finally, they grabbed him, two securing his arms behind his back. They shoved him to the entrance and he growled back, kicking against the floor. 

_If you tell us where the girl is you can leave._

"No!" he grunted, bare feet slipping against the tiles. "I won't talk!" Another orderly mistakenly went for his legs and received a powerful kick to the nose for his efforts. Except with his anchors gone, they shoved him easily through the doorway. He stumbled across the threshold, fighting and snarling for every inch. 

Adamson watched the whole ordeal from the gate, looking like a parent who was so over their child's tantrums. "It will be better for everyone if you stop fighting, Mr. Grayson," he repeated tiredly. 

"Go to hell!" Dick bit back. 

Adamson shrugged, rolling his eyes. The detective was simply impossible. He turned to look pointedly at the hidden camera in the hallway, gesturing impatiently to the shameful display Dick was putting on. 

"Any time now, Caitlin." 

Dr. Dawson materialized on the other side of the gate a moment later and Adamson turned to her. He grinned, pleased, and stepped back politely as the gate beeped and swung open.

"Shut it, Adamson," she hissed, eyes laser-focused on Dick further down the hall. She stomped forward, Dick stilling when he saw her approach. 

"Who the hell are you?" he panted, hair tussled and clothes a mess. The orderlies clung to him tightly and he jerked back. 

Dawson looked at them. "Release him," she ordered. 

Instantly, Dick's arms were free and he stumbled unexpectedly. "You're the woman on the intercom," he remarked, rubbing his sore shoulder. He glanced at his bandaged arm, offering it. "What did you do to me?" 

"As I said before, Mr. Grayson, we located and removed the trackers in your-" 

"No," he interrupted, shaking his head. "No, you didn't. Because I didn't have any _fucking_ trackers in my arm!" 

"Our Biohazards Team would disagree. And they weren't just in your arm." 

"...What?" 

The woman straightened, clipboard clutched casually before her. "You've caused quite the ruckus here today, Mr. Grayson. I'm afraid to say your undo little outburst has put us quite behind schedule." 

Adamson stepped forward, looking like he wanted to intercede, but Dawson silenced him with one finger. Her eyes never left Dick, staring at him with cold professionalism. "Now. Are you going to cooperate, or will you continue to insist on being as wholly unhelpful as you possibly can be?" 

Dick looked at her evenly. "What do you think?" 

"I thought you would say that." An orderly approached and handed her two vials and a syringe. Dick tensed instinctively, backing away. "I am not above granting my subjects one last act of autonomy," she informed and presented the small vials. They were full of clear liquids and looked identical. "Choose your poison." 

Dick frowned at her. "You can't be serious." 

"I assure you, Mr. Grayson, I am. Now decide which one of these liquids you want to be injected directly into your bloodstream." 

He gulped, falling back a step. "This, this is insane. I can't decide that." 

"Decide or I will." When he didn't respond, she rolled her eyes. It was the most emotion he had seen from her. "Preferably sometime today, Mr. Grayson. Or should I remind you how behind schedule we already are?" 

"For god's sake, just pick a vial!" Adamson chimed in, cheeks flushed in annoyance. 

Dick shook his head. He wouldn't do that. He _couldn't_ do that. God only knew what was in those vials. These people honestly couldn't expect him to pick his poison like this. It was inhuman. It was insanity. It was a game, a trick, and he wouldn't be any part of it.

"I won't." 

Dawson sighed, seeing the shutters slam in place over his eyes. There was no reasoning with him now. Adamson looked disappointed but not surprised and Dick spared a brief moment to take pride in annoying the man. Before him, Dawson selected one of the vials, pocketing the second. "Hold him," she instructed, readying the syringe. 

Dick swung to his left before he could even think about it and managed to send an orderly stumbling backward. But the second grabbed him strongly from behind. The one stationed behind Dawson rushed forward, securing Dick's other arm in place. They pushed, forcing him to his knees as the doctor filled the syringe with the clear liquid. Dick watched her nervously, panic rising as she kept pulling. Before long, the vial was emptied and Dick lunged away best he could, terrified of that amount of mysterious liquid entering his bloodstream. 

An orderly jerked his head to the side and Dawson silently plunged the needle into his jugular. Dick screamed as the substance poured into him, liquid fire flooding into his veins. What felt like radioactive ants exploded inside him from the injection site, filling him as if their hill had just been stomped on. They crawled through his body, along his muscles and in his veins, tiny daggers for feet stabbing him full of a million painful holes. 

Then, as quickly as it had started, the ants settled into place and drowsiness dropped across his mind like a heavy blanket. He slumped, muscles spasming randomly as the ants burrowed into him. Eyes rolling back, he collapsed heavily to the ground. Dawson handed off the used syringe as Adamson clipped forward. Arms crossed, he looked down at Dick's body. 

"Well done, Caitlin." 

She rolled her eyes, shoving past him toward the gate. "Bring him." 

The orderlies grabbed Dick by the arms, dragging him along the floor. 

"Adamson too." 

The man squawked offendedly as the orderlies seized him, roughly escorting him to the gate. 


	2. Chapter 2

**AGNEWS ASYLUM**   
**ILLINOIS**

Dick snapped to consciousness, jerking upright on the cot. The room wobbled around him, walls melting, but he recognized it. He was back in his cell. Grunting, he glanced at the door. Still open. With a sigh, he fell off the tall bed, stumbling slightly as his body clawed to wake up as fast as his mind had. Reaching out, he felt the wall, familiar with its hardness. The same cell. Why had they put him in the same cell?

How long had he been out? What had they done to him - what had he said?

He remembered the encounter from the hallway and a hand flew to his neck. He rubbed the injection site, checking his fingers for blood or residue. It had been a clean prick, difficult to do when going for the jugular. As if awakened by his memory of them, the imaginary ants in his veins stirred, claws and pinchers working at his muscles. 

Dick gasped, curling against the pain. It didn't hurt as much as it was extraordinarily unpleasant. His muscles spasmed randomly, making that entire section of his body give way. Walking was difficult and fighting would be near impossible if he couldn't control himself. 

He eyed the door angrily. 

Not that he had any other choice. He would fight until he could no longer stand. He would resist their games even if they turned his brain to mush. To his very last breath, he would protect Rachel. Besides, he had some very choice words he wanted to give them before dying and they weren't "here's where you can find her."

He heard a creak in the wall and looked up, spotting something that was out of place. Or, rather, finding that something was missing. His pipe. The long pipe that had hissed at him earlier was gone, totally removed. The screw holes were even gone, the wall patched as if they had never been there. 

Reaching up, he stroked the wall, ensuring the dim light wasn't just playing tricks on him. It wasn't. The pipe was gone. Which meant...

He turned, walking along the wall. He turned the corner sharply, tracing the edges of the room. It was too short. He had paced for hours in his old cell; he would know if the dimensions had changed. And they had. 

This was most certainly not his original cell. 

"Where am I?" he asked, finding the camera hidden in the ceiling's shadows. Hidden cameras and speakers explained in a warped sense why the rooms had to be so tall. Of course, these people could have just hidden the devices in the vents like everyone else did. But no, they just _loved_ their goddamn theatrics and mind games.

He didn't get a response so he asked again, louder this time. "I know you're there! Where am I? What did you put inside of me?" 

_"Only what you were unwilling to put inside of yourself,"_ someone said over his shoulder and Dick spun, confused to find the room completely empty. _"A little dose of reality. A wake-up call. A hard pill to swallow - take your pick,"_ the voice continued and Dick staggered in place, trying to follow it around the room. No matter which way he turned, the ghost spoke directly over his shoulder. And it sounded eerily familiar. 

"Who are you?" he asked, finding the wall and leaning against it. No one could sneak up behind him if his back was covered. 

_"Who do you think I am?"_ the ghost whispered right into his ear. 

Dick pivoted and slammed against the cornering wall, hands raised against the invisible threat. "The fuck is that supposed to mean?" he questioned, eyes wide and twitching nervously. He was sweating and the ants were making it difficult to stand, brutalizing his thighs from the inside out. They always went for the muscle groups he was using the most which was nice of them. Not inconvenient at all, that. 

The ghost remained maddeningly quiet and Dick's breathing picked up rapidly. "Answer me!" he shouted, his anger echoing along the tall walls, bouncing all the way to the high ceiling. "Answer me! Who are you?" 

"Poor Mr. Grayson." 

Dick spun, startled by Dr. Adamson standing in the doorway. The man's sleeves were rolled down, his hands pocketed. 

"What're you doing here?" Dick panted. "Why didn't you stop them from injecting me!" 

The man shrugged. "What was I do to? Remember I'm a prisoner here as well, same as you."

"You're lying. I saw you with that doctor. You called her by her first name." 

"Because she used to work for me. I do recall telling you that I used to run this place. Please, Mr. Grayson, I understand you are stressed but try to keep up." 

He wasn't stressed. He was just captured and poisoned by people who wanted to kill Rachel.

"Then how come they didn't inject you with anything?" 

"Who's to say they didn't?" Adamson titled his head, exposing a bloody pinprick in his neck. Dick leaned over to look, snapping backward like a timid dog once he was satisfied. 

"What is it?" 

Adamson crossed his arms again, giving Dick a careful once over. "Not the same thing Caitlin gave you, I can only assume. Relax, Mr. Grayson," he said, taking a step forward. 

Dick lept back a step, fidgety and nervous. He was like a caged animal, one that was mistrusting and very unhappy about being locked up. 

Sighing, Adamson raised his hands. "Houses built on weak foundations will never weather the storm." 

"What?" 

"Sit. Relax, I insist. Getting yourself all worked up will only increase the negative side effects of the drug." 

Dick braced against the wall, his left leg faltering. "Negative side effects?" He grabbed at the cot greedily, glaring at Adamson as he pulled it to himself. The man watching impassively, making no move to help or hinder as Dick leaned his weight against the tall bed. "You mean to say there are positive side effects?" 

The doctor chuckled politely. "I believe those are called cures. Like when you take an Advil to reduce your fever, for instance." 

"Sure," Dick bit back, climbing onto the bed. "Side effects might include seizure-like symptoms, involuntary muscle movement, weakness in the limbs, queasiness, and fucking hallucinations." 

"You've been seeing things, have you?" 

Strung out from his panic and fear, Dick slumped tiredly against the mattress, though his anxiety refused to rest. His sweaty bangs shaded his eyes as he panted loudly. "...No," he finally admitted. Adamson was no threat. Why was he all worked up? The man hadn't laid a single finger on him, much less ever threatened him. Dick stared at the mattress, swallowing loudly. "Hearing voices." 

"Fascinating. And, pray tell, what have the voices been saying? Anyone you recognize? A lost loved one or old lover perhaps?" 

"No!" he snapped quickly. Then, quieter: "No, nothing like that. Just..." He gestured vaguely. "Nonsense. Aphorisms, mainly. Like 'hard pill to swallow' and 'reality check.' Stuff like that." A little voice in his head, one that sounded an awful lot like Bruce, screamed at him for being so explicit with this man. Adamson was still the enemy. He had tried to kidnap Rachel, had sent brainwashed killers to find her, and was part of the reason Dick had been captured and drugged in the first place, or had he forgotten. 

" 'Reality check...' " Adamson repeated thoughtfully. He shifted his weight, making a face as he considered what Dick had revealed. "A very interesting choice of words. Though I must admit, I am particularly drawn to 'hard pill to swallow.' Tell me, Mr. Grayson, have you ever had any trouble with substance abuse in the past?"

Dick barely heard him, lost in the lecture tiny Bruce was giving him. "No..." he muttered absently. 

_"Wake up, son!"_

Suddenly, Dick looked up, finally breaking the surface of the drugs. The real world was so clean, his thoughts so clear and precise.

Adamson shrugged. "Well, if it's my professional opinion you want, I would venture to say that you, Mr. Grayson, suffer from emotional neglect. No doubt caused by the tragedy of watching your parents die before your very eyes. And at such a young age too." 

Dick's large eyes flicked up to Adamson, for the first time seeing past all the deflective answers and three-piece suits. "Shut up," he said. He spun on the cot, slipping to the floor. 

Adamson blinked at him. "I'm sorry?" he tried, smiling politely. 

"I know who you are, Adamson. And I know what you gave me," Dick informed, stalking forward. 

"Mr. Grayson, as I have already said, I didn't _give you_ anything. I am no longer in charge here-" 

Suddenly Dick had him by his shirt again, their faces inches apart. The former Robin used every inch of his tall height to glower down at the older man, huffing angrily at him. His large eyes scanned the doctor's face and he hated himself for not seeing through the mask sooner. Snarling, Dick shoved him backward powerfully. 

Adamson stumbled unexpectedly and glared at Dick. "What is the meaning of this, Mr. Grayson?" 

"Get out." 

"I'm sorry?" 

Dick turned, stomping back to the cot. "I said get out." 

"Oh for god's sake... For the last time, I can't simply wave my hand and make things happen just because you want them to. I have no say of what goes on here anymore," he explained tiredly as Dick hucked the mattress aside. He grabbed the metal frame of the cot and pulled, yanking strongly at the hinges. The ants protested but damn them. He was pissed.

"Then I suggest you figure something out." 

The bed frame cracked in two, and Dick pulled out a long metal bar. He tossed it lightly, testing its considerable weight. Turning, he stalked back to Adamson, the bar balanced in his hand. 

"Mr. Grayson, please, I assure you that won't be necessary," Adamson squeaked, looking at the bar nervously. 

"Oh, it's not for you." Dick swung suddenly, stabbing the blunt end of the metal into Adamson's stomach. The man coughed in surprise, stumbling in pain. Smooth as an acrobat, Dick slipped around behind him, arms wrapped tightly around the man's neck. He held the pointed end of the bar to Adamson's throat. From their position, the camera near the ceiling had a front-row seat to the action. 

Dick nodded to it. "Unlock the gate down the hall." 

Nothing happened and Dick tightened his grip, Adamson choking loudly. "I said open it!" 

Dawson's voice crackled to life over the intercom. _"Mr. Grayson, you are in no position to make demands here."_

"Unlock it or I'll kill him. Gut him a like a fish." 

_"And what good would that do you, do you think?"_

"Some goddamn peace and quiet for starters." 

Adamson groaned. "Just do it, Caitlin! For heaven's sake, just do what he says." 

In the monitor room, the nervous man sat back, looking to Dawson for guidance. "You aren't seriously considering letting him live, are you?" 

She crossed her arms, pen clicking. "I wonder what something like that would do to a man's conscience." 

"Grayson's? You know his history; I'm sure he's killed before." 

"No. Not Grayson's." She leaned into the microphone...

_"Dr. Adamson is no longer valuable to us. Do with him as you please, Mr. Grayson. But I cannot allow you to leave until you tell us where the girl is. She is our only loyalty."_

Adamson paled, looking at the camera in betrayal. "Caitlin..!" he gasped quietly. 

"You work for her father, right?" Dick asked. Now that he had them talking he might as well use it. "What does he want with her?" 

_"She will save the world."_

"By destroying it?" 

_"By cleansing it."_

"From what?" 

_"Us."_

Dick rolled his eyes because really, what had he expected? Of course, Dawson was drinking the same Kool-Aid Adamson had been chugging. "And why would I want that? Why would I want to be cleansed by her father?" 

_"I think, in the end, it doesn't really matter what you want, Mr. Grayson. Rachel will bring about the end of days, open the door for her father, whether you wish her to or not."_

Suddenly, the open cell door slammed shut. Vents near the ceiling started hissing, thick gas pouring through. "What are you doing?" Dick asked, tightening his grip on Adamson. 

_"We have ways of gathering information that don't involve your cooperation."_

The men in the cell coughed, the smoke clouding the air. Dick shoved Adamson away, pulling his shirt over his face. Adamson stumbled into the remains of the cot, eyes straining for the hidden camera.

"Why me, Caitlin?" he implored. "I was good to you! Don't do this, not to me!" 

_"Goodbye, Dr. Adamson."_

The man collapsed heavily, coughing against the toxic air. 

"Adamson!" Dick croaked, tripping to him. He tore the man's vest off, stuffing it against his face. "Breathe through this!" 

The doctor clutched the fabric weakly, managing a few staggering breaths before his eyes rolled back and he fell. 

Dick shook him, coughing harshly. "Adamson! Wake up!" he hacked. When the man didn't stir, Dick staggered to his feet, glaring at the camera. "What did you do to him!" 

_"A curious response from someone who, not moments ago, threatened to, and I quote, 'gut him like a fish.' "_

The gas seeped into his bones, weakening him. Dick fell to one knee, coughing hoarsely. 

_"Are you ready to cooperate now?"_

"...fuck off," he muttered, face down on the floor. 

_"Goodnight, Mr. Grayson."_

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

**OUTSIDE CHICAGO  
ILLINOIS**

In the Do-Si-Do motel, Kory paced nervously, phone to her ear. It rang and rang, eventually switching to voice mail. 

_"Sorry, can't come to the phone right now-"_ Dick's prerecorded message started. 

Kory hung up on it.

Fuck.

"Fuck!" she hissed. 

Rachel looked up from her chipped nail polish. "Still no answer?" 

The woman shook her head, hands on her hips in agitation as she stomped a path into the carpet.

From the other corner of the bed, Gar shrugged. "Maybe it's just taking longer than he expected?" 

"And he's refusing to answer his phone?" Kory snapped. 

The boy shied away, Rachel chewing her lips. "He's left before." 

"But he always communicated with you, right? Stayed in touch?" 

She shook her head. "Not always. Never, actually. He just... up and leaves." 

Kory sighed, resting a palm against her forehead. She was burning up - more so than usual. Stupid Grayson getting under her skin like this. "And, let me guess, you're left waiting around for him to come back." 

"Yeah. But he always comes back. So far at least." 

Gar watched her sadly, wishing there was something he could do to ease her mind. "What do we know about the guy he went after?" 

"Not much," Kory replied heavily, slumping into the room's uncomfortable chair. "Dick found a Chicago address on the Family's GPS. A name maybe, too, I don't know. I couldn't see." 

"So he's in Chicago, then. That's a start at least." 

Rachel looked at him. "Gar, do you have _any_ idea how big Chicago is?" 

"Or how far away it is?" Kory added. "And for all we know, that could have been the first breadcrumb of a trail leading Dick all the way to... Boston or something." 

The boy stared at his hands, looking plenty chided. "I'm just saying. It doesn't seem as hopeless as you two are making it out to be." 

Rachel waved her hands, climbing off the bed. "Oh my _god,_ Gar!" she exclaimed. "Dick went _somewhere_ after some guy we don't know, who works for a mystery organization we know nothing about, in a city that's at least a hundred miles away! How is it not that bad?" 

He frowned at her, hackles rising defensively. "Because this is Dick we're talking about. You know, _Robin_?" The ladies groaned, turning away. "The Boy Wonder? Gotham's Golden Boy?" 

"And what does that have to do with anything?" Kory wondered. 

Gar laughed at her. "What does that - that has everything to do with it! Do you even realize who Robin is?" 

The woman shrugged, not knowing but also not really caring. Rachel frowned at her. 

"Wait, you mean you've never heard of Robin? But you've been on earth for years." 

"Yeah, tracking you and your mom halfway across the globe. Sorry if I wasn't keeping tabs on some random kid in tights on the other side of the country." 

Gar squawked at her. "Okay, first of all, Robin is not just some random kid in tights. He's Batman's partner. That means he's worked with the Dark Knight, the World's Greatest Detective. He fights bad guys like the Joker and Penguin all the time, stopping them and saving hundreds of lives. Even Jim Gordon, the oldest stick in the mud to ever be a police chief, works with Batman and Robin - they work together to solve cases to keep cops - and everyone else - alive." 

"He _did_ ," Rachel added somberly. "He did work with Batman and fight bad guys." 

Gar wilted like she had just spoken the name of a dead pet and Kory frowned. "Did? What do you mean did?" 

The girl shrugged. "He disappeared a bunch of years ago. Robin did, not Dick. He was just trying to... move on, I guess. He told me he was trying to quit being Robin back in Detroit. That he wanted to leave it all behind." 

"But that doesn't mean he forgot his training," Gar cut in hopefully. "I mean, we all saw him against the Family, right? He kicked total ass. And you said he was a cop, right? A detective when you met him?" 

The girl nodded. 

"See! So he hasn't stopped helping people either. He might have been running from Robin, but it's pretty obvious he still remembers everything Batman taught him." 

Kory sat up, crossing her arms. She was trying not to get her hopes up, but so far Gar had made a rather compelling - if not enthusiastic - case. "So, what're you saying, then? That we should call Batman?" 

"I'm saying we don't need to! We have _Robin_ , for crying out loud. He is easily one of the top ten strongest heroes ever and he doesn't even have any powers!"

Rachel waved a hand at him. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Top ten?"

The boy shrugged, making a show of considering it. "Okay, top seven."

"Don't let Dick hear you say that," the girl chuckled. "Or else he'd be squeezing back into those tights just to prove he was no lower than top three." Kory laughed with her because that was something she would like to see. Not that she would ever get the chance if Dick didn't come back to them alive. She sobered at the thought, playing with her phone idly. She remembered when Dick had startled her in the storage unit, yelling at her for stealing his car. 

_"There's an app for that,"_ he had said.

She blinked. 

There's an app for that.

"Hang on," she said quietly. The kids looked to her, already hyper familiar with that tone of voice. Kory wasn't dumb. In fact, she was super fucking smart and every so often she had a stroke of unbridled genius. "His phone. He took his phone with him." 

"Yeah...?" Rachel frowned, turning.

Gar shifted. "You've been calling it, remember? He hasn't answered." 

The woman rose to her feet slowly, waving at the boy to shut up. "Maybe he doesn't have to." Suddenly, she looked up, green eyes alight with brilliance. "I think I know how to find him." 

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

**AGNEWS ASYLUM**   
**ILLINOIS**

Dick was strapped to an adjustable chair, his arms, legs, chest, and head held in place by thick leather straps. The chair had been flattened and titled almost 90° so he was forced to stand flat against it, leaning backward at a slight angle. 

"It must be infuriating, Mr. Grayson," Dr. Dawson began as she walked into the room. It was the corner of two large hallways, a wide and round room with tall walls, an elevated floor, and tiny windows that filtered white light from outside. "To be a lonely man, standing against the fate of the world." 

Dick glared at her best he could. "I don't believe in fate." 

She pulled up a stool, sitting next to him. A small table came with her, its surface neatly displaying a series of syringes, surgical tools, and vials. Once they were in place, she presented a large metal box with two dials on the front screen. It looked like it was straight out of the 1960s, with curved lines, a meter on the front, and two cords with sticky pads on the end. An Electroconvulsive Shock machine. She was going to give him shock therapy. Dick pulled in a breath, eyeing the tools nervously. 

"People are afraid of things they don't believe in," Dawson stated simply. 

"You're wrong," he corrected. "People are afraid of things they don't _understand._ And fearful people are desperate people." 

She made a small noise, checking her instruments. "Are you desperate, Mr. Grayson?" 

"Are you?" he asked back, looking pointedly at the table. 

Withdrawing her hands to her lap, she looked at him. "I have a job to do and a very short time table in which to do it. Much like Rachel's situation with her father, if I may be so bold. It is her privilege to cleanse the world and prepare it for His arrival. And the sooner you tell us where she is, the sooner she can fulfill the purpose she was created for."

Dick shifted uncomfortably, the standing position straining his lower back and legs as the ants continued their assault. "Who is he?" 

"Who?" 

"Rachel's father. Who is he?" 

"The one who will-" 

"Save us from ourselves, yes, I've heard. I just - and you'll forgive me if I sound a bit skeptical - but I've seen some pretty... unusual things in my time. And I can't help but think that a man who needs his daughter to open some sort of door so he can come through to our side and burn the world sounds a hell of a lot to me like he isn't quite human." 

Dawson pulled on plastic gloves and stood, reaching around the shock machine to switch it on. "Have you seen her gift, Mr. Grayson?" 

"Her powers, you mean? The darkness that has deeply traumatized an innocent young girl? You call that a gift?" 

"They were a gift from her father. And if you are ever fortunate enough to see everything she is capable of, you will understand how truly powerful she is." 

"Doesn't sound like a gift to me." 

"Well, I have good news for you. It won't. Not to someone like you, who is so close-minded to everything you can't see with your own eyes." She selected the two pads, holding them in the air as the machine buzzed. "Tell us where she is." 

He licked his lips, tugging against the leather restraints. "Never." 

Electricity sparked between the pads, small lightning bolts leaping from one to the other. "We will open your mind, Mr. Grayson. You will experience things that even you, with all of your unusual encounters, cannot begin to comprehend. And after you have joined us in praising Him, you will gladly tell us where she is." 

She lowered the pads to his temples. He screamed. 


	3. Chapter 3

**HAMMOND**   
**ILLINOIS**

**OUTSIDE LYNWOOD**

Jason's motorcycle was parked on the edge of the parking lot of some stupid-ass diner somewhere, his League laptop balanced on his lap. He had done a pretty good job of tracking Dick's helicopter all things considered; kept pace with it fairly well and restrained himself to only breaking a few traffic laws. He had hoped that once they were out of the city he would be able to follow it even better. Unfortunately, fewer buildings meant thick forests of tall trees, blocking his view and muffling the whirl of the blades. It hadn't taken long for the clues to stop completely. A few hours after that he could finally admit he had lost every trace of the damn thing. 

The teen huffed, slapping his laptop shut. He was running out of options and Dick was running low on time. Whoever this Adamson person was - whoever he worked for - was powerful enough to be completely off the grid, undetectable in any database. And their pilots knew how to avoid any and everything that could be used to track them. Not even League satellites could help. 

Chewing his lip, he looked around because maybe a clue would materialize in thin air, a road sign pointing him exactly where he needed to go.

He came to Illinois to meet Dick Grayson for the very first time (among other reasons.) But now, a whole day later, he was no closer to finding him. He really couldn't have fucked up this badly before he even got started.

A van pulled into the parking lot, a trio of multi-colored weirdos climbing out. 

"Let's get something to eat," a tall woman with curly magenta hair instructed, closing the driver's side door. 

The kids frowned at her in confusion. 

"But we have to find Dick!" the girl with short blue hair protested and Jason was suddenly eavesdropping _very_ loudly because who in the hell still went by Dick in 2018?

The boy with green spikes waved a phone at them. "We still have no idea how far out we are." 

So they were tracking him by phone. Interesting. Jason snuck a glance, leaning forward to mess with his boot. They were a regular trio of power rangers, all color-coordinated and shit. 

"I know!" the woman sighed angrily. Clearly this wasn't the first time they had had this conversation. "But we've been driving all day and you two need to eat. Especially considering what we're about to go up against." 

Jason frowned at that curious bit of information. The expected a fight. Very interesting. 

Blue girl paused. "You think there could be more of the Family?"

"Well we know they came from Adamson..." (SO FUCKING INTERESTING!) "...And if that's who Dick went after..." She sighed, pushing her hair away from her face. "We just have to be ready for anything, alright? And that means fighting. Which neither of you can do on empty stomachs." 

Convinced, the kids bowed their heads as she ushered them into the diner. 

Jason almost couldn't believe his luck. This couldn't be happening - not to him. A group of strangers was out looking for someone called Dick who had disappeared while going after someone else called Adamson. And they apparently expected trouble, again, so they had some sort of combat training? Powers maybe?

Jason shoved his laptop into his backpack, slipping off his bike. If he could get that phone, he could see if it was his Dick or not and borrow (steal) the coordinates from them. Zipping his jacket, he pivoted toward the diner. In and out. No problem.

The magenta woman was standing in front of him, arms crossed and one hip jutted to the side. He startled and lept back, bumping into his bike. 

"Jesus, lady!" he gasped, hand to his heart. "The fuck are you doing, sneaking up on people like that?" 

"I could ask you the same thing," she replied quickly.

He feigned innocence. "What? I'm just here for some shitty road food-"

"Why were you listening to us?" 

"Why was I - you think I was _listening_ to you?" 

"I don't think. I know. So tell me what your deal is, or the next shitty road food you eat will be through a straw." 

Gaping dramatically at her, he slipped a hand into the saddlebag of his bike, fingers gripping a Batarang. "Look, lady, I don't know what the hell crawled into that hair of yours and died, but you need to step off, okay?" 

The woman rolled her eyes, dropping the pose. "Alright, that's it. You're coming with me." 

"Like hell I am!" Jason threw the weapon at her, aimed perfectly for the center of her face. She gasped, but a black cloud appeared suddenly and caught the thing midair. Robin blinked, shocked. He spun and climbed on his bike. Before he could start it, though, a green tiger lept at him, large paw swiping through the air. The teen yelped, rolling off the bike to avoid the strike. He sprung to his feet, stumbling right into the magenta woman. She grabbed his arms and squeezed. He hissed as her hands sizzled against his leather jacket, singing the material.

"Talk," she demanded. Jason broke the hold, backing away from her. His eyes flashed between the woman blocking the parking lot and the green tiger standing between him and his bike. 

"Bite me!" he shouted. 

The woman snarled angrily, the tiger roaring as it launched into the air. 

"Wait!" the blue girl screamed and they froze, looking at her. 

"What?" the woman asked and it took Jason a long moment to tear his eyes from her skin. Was she on _fire_? From the _inside_? Finally, he managed to look up as the girl approached him, eyes black, skin pale, and Batarang in hand. 

"Where did you get this?" she asked. 

Robin gulped, realizing he was good and properly fucked. 

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

**AGNEWS ASYLUM**   
**ILLINOIS**

Adamson paced his wide cell, hands clasped behind his back. The large door unlocked and he turned to face it as Dr. Dawson walked in. He grinned pleasantly at her. "Ah, Caitlin," he cooed as if he was greeting an old friend. 

"Sit," she commanded coldly, flipping open her clipboard. 

The man obeyed, but made sure she knew he wasn't happy about it. "What is this about?" he wondered from his perch on the hard bench. 

Dawson retrieved a series of brain scans, handing them over. "Tell me what you think of these." 

He inspected them carefully, sighing authoritatively. The other doctor rolled her eyes, unimpressed. "Well, they're crude, but I believe I can see several legions and what appears to be a rather sizeable mass around the prefrontal cortex." He shrugged, handing them back.

"How long does the subject have?" she wondered, locking the images safely into her clipboard. "In your professional opinion." 

"I can't say for sure without a more thorough examination and interview of the patient, of course. But, in my professional opinion, I would estimate one year. Maybe fourteen months if he's so fortunate." He straightened his back, fingers clasping over his crossed knees. "Now who's the lucky bastard? Surely not our dear friend Mr. Grayson. And he seemed like such a healthy young man too." 

Dawson held her clipboard in both hands, looking at him evenly. "Aren't you curious as to why I allowed Mr. Grayson to threaten your life, Dr. Adamson?" 

He smirked at her, dark eyes shimmering. "I admit, you did give me quite a fright at first, Caitlin. But once the moment passed and I was able to clear my head, I could more accurately assess the situation and I think I have an answer for you." 

"Please..." she invited. 

"You were testing him. Trying to get him to embrace the darkness within. To admit to the monster he really is on the inside. We both have seen him at work; we know what he really is." He sighed. "It was an admirable ploy, and I must commend you for it. It's a shame it didn't quite pan out like you intended." 

She smirked at him. "It certainly is. Dr. Adamson, you have been a part of His family for fifty-four years now, correct? Serving her father for the majority of your life." 

"I have been doing this since before you were born, Caitlin, yes," he replied snidely. "Glory be to Him, He hasn't failed me yet." 

"Well I have bad news, Doctor," Dawson said. "He's about to." 

Adamson's grin faltered, fat face frowning at her. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean." 

"You are correct when you said I was testing someone in Mr. Grayson's cell earlier. However, it wasn't him who was under scrutiny." 

"I... I don't understand. What are you saying, Caitlin?" 

"I'm saying your time here has run short, Doctor. Not only as a part of His family, working to build this asylum for His needs and glory, but your time here on earth as well." 

His smile dropped completely, falling like a stone in his stomach. The X-Rays. The test. Telling Grayson to kill him. "You, you can't be saying... Is it because I begged? The fault of a man playing along with the game, you know how it is. He certainly doesn't expect us to be infallible." 

Dawson straightened, looking down at him from high above. "In _my_ professional opinion, Dr. Adamson, I would say the lucky bastard's fourteen months was a generous estimate. I would give him three days, exactly." 

"No... No, you can't do this!" He shot to his feet, finger pointing at her. "I will not be taken down like this - not by you! I have spent my whole life serving Him! I have slaved and built this asylum from the ground up - and all to contain Her of all people! You can't do this to me, Caitlin! I am far superior to you!" 

"Goodbye, Dr. Adamson. We will not be seeing each other again." 

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

**HAMMOND**   
**ILLINOIS**

Kory shoved Jason into one of the diner booths, looming over him. Gar and Rachel watched from the other side of the long room, unsure about this turn of events. "Stay," the woman commanded, walking off to join the kids. They straightened and looked at her expectantly as she sat.

"Well?" Gar prompted impatiently. "Is he telling the truth?" 

Kory handed the Batarang back to Rachel. "I can't tell. I think so. He certainly sounds convincing." 

Rachel took the small weapon, considering it. 

"I didn't know there was another Robin," Gar admitted, glancing over his shoulder at Jason. The teen flipped him off. "He... he must not have been doing it for very long." 

"Didn't sound like he had been. A year at most, I think he said." She nodded to the signature weapon in Rachel's hands. "Can you tell anything from that?" 

"You mean other than the fact that it's obviously a Batarang? Which means he's either telling the truth or is some crazy, mega-fan?" 

Gar leaned forward. "Think about it: he knew Dick was Robin; he knew Dick was missing; he knew about Adamson," Gar listed, pointing to the weapon. "I mean, he has one of those, for crying out loud. And I'm willing to bet if we search that bike of his, we'll find the whole costume and everything." 

Kory smirked at him. "I think you _want_ him to be Robin." 

"I really, really want him to be Robin," he admitted readily. "Uh, and also to help us find Dick. You said so yourself, Kory, chances are good we're going to run into more people like the Family if we go through with this. Having help - especially help from a _Robin_? Could be a huge game-changer." 

The woman had to admit, the boy had a point. It was rare, but when he did decide to open his mouth and it wasn't for a joke, wise words usually came from out. They were bookended by smart alec remarks, sure, but there was some wisdom in his young soul. 

"What do you think, Rachel?" she asked, redirecting the conversation to the actual empath. 

The girl sighed, dropping the Batarang onto the table. "I don't know. Would I like some help getting Dick back? Yes. Do I want to just trust the word of this random stranger and drag another person into my shit? No. I... What if something goes wrong? What if something goes wrong with _me_?" 

"Hey," Gar breathed, reaching for her hand. "We're still going to be there, okay?" 

"Gar's right," Kory added. "No matter what we decide to do with this kid, we - the three of us - are in it until the end. Nobody is going to abandon anybody. Hell, the entire fact that we're even here doing this is a testament to that." 

Rachel nodded, smiling at them. 

"Hey, dipshits!" Jason called from the other end of the diner. They looked and he revealed Kory's phone from under the table, waving it at them. "I know where Dick is." 

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

**AGNEWS ASYLUM**   
**ILLINOIS**

Dick was still in the torture room, collapsed heavily to the chair. It had remained upright throughout the shock therapy sessions until his legs had given out and he had sagged deadweight against the restraints. Then and only then had they repositioned him into a seated position, reclined way back as if he was visiting the dentist and not having his brains cooked by miniaturized lightning. The ants were angry under his skin, crawling and biting at him incessantly. It was agony, but he barely had the strength left to twitch whenever they chomped on a sensitive nerve. 

With ants in his body, spiders had taken residence in his mind. They spread their webs all across his brain, covering it like the yarn of a conspiracy theorist's corkboard. They weren't as aggressive as the ants, but were just as invasive. There wasn't a dark corner in him that they hadn't touched, sinewy webs fracturing his brain like so many shattered pieces of a mirror. 

He blinked sluggishly, head lolling slightly to one side as the door opened, a nurse in scrubs and a face mask entering. Dick frowned because that wasn't Dawson. And changing routine made things scary and unpredictable. 

She ignored him entirely, picking up the pads of the shock machine. 

Dick's heart rate spiked and he thrashed weakly against the restraints. No, no more. He couldn't take any more spiders. To his stunned surprise, though, she wrapped them up tightly, packing them away with the machine.

Curious, that. So no more shock. He couldn't tell if that was good or bad, his thoughts traffic jamming against the webs.

Something cold pressed to the nook of his arm and he twitched reflexively. She inserted a needle into the soft flesh and he hadn't even noticed her preparing it. Jesus, he was losing it. 

"Count backward from ten," she instructed. 

He blinked. "...Ten." 

She put the needle aside. 

"N-nine." 

He could feel his hands again, fingers tingling. 

"Eight." 

His throat opened and he didn't realize how difficult breathing had become until he could easily gulp air into his lungs. 

"Seven? Six."

The room sharpened, the high corners coming in clear as crystal as if someone had removed badly adjusted glasses. He pulled his head up best he could, frowning at the room around him. 

"Five." 

At four the pain kicked in. Dick threw himself against the chair, convulsing as his breath was stolen, every single muscle cramping. God, it hurt. It hurt worse than the shock therapy had. 

"Th...three!" he continued, hissing through his teeth. "Two! One!" 

And he blacked out. 

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Dick woke up back in a cell and a glance to the pipe on the wall reassured him it was the original. Either that or an identical one with an identical hissing pipe an arm's reach above him. Grunting, Dick rolled off the bed. His knees hit the floor and he barely managed to get his hands under him, saving his nose from the floor. God, everything hurt. He felt like he had just run a marathon against Clark. With ants. And spiders. Every muscle hurt - literally from the top of his head to the bottoms of his feet - and twelve hours of sleep would do his pounding migraine a real solid. 

Heaving himself up the wall (yup, still hard. And still tall), he reached for the pipe, fingers brushing against the cool metal. Yup, still a pipe. The rest of his routine was to walk - or stumble - the perimeter of the room, test the sturdiness of his cot, and wonder if the sickos watching him through their bullshit hidden camera were entertained. 

Leaning heavily against the bed, he willed his legs not to give out underneath him. They wanted to - oh, did they ever want to - but he had to keep moving. Being idle had never sat well with him and he knew better than most that moving was the best way to work out sore muscles. His left caved eventually (it was always his left) and he whimpered pathetically, clinging to the stale mattress to keep himself upright. 

He was a mess: sore and stiff all over; ants inside him, attacking his muscles and joints; spiders clogging his head, muddling and mixing his thoughts. Not to mention how these people had stripped him of his jacket and shoes, leaving only a sweaty undershirt and cargo pants behind. Truth be told he didn't mind being barefoot so much. Even as a kid he had always preferred to go shoeless, the hay and dirt of the center ring grounding him. He would fly through the air, sure, and it was his favorite thing, but when he was on the ground he liked to really feel it. 

Now, though, it left him feeling raw and exposed. Fighting in bare feet was doable, but difficult and definitely upped the chances of foot injuries while lessening the power behind attacks. And his toes were cold. 

Dick wheezed, suddenly realizing how chilly he was. Did someone forget to pay the heat bill or had he come down with a fever? He dragged a hand forward, slapping it to his forehead. He was hot. Probably. He was also covered in his own drying sweat so there was that to consider as well. 

With the last of his strength, he managed to pull himself onto the cot, collapsing heavily onto it. He was sure to curl on one side just in case he vomited in his sleep. Something about conserving body heat too. Getting sick was just great, exactly what he needed. Not that he could really be mad at himself (ah, who was he kidding? He would always find something.) They had pumped him so full of drugs he could open a damn pharmacy. Weakly, he coughed. Hell, they probably _gave_ him the flu just to be insufferable pricks. It was another game. There was always another game, more pieces to sacrifice and attacks to avoid. 

_"You're running out of time,"_ the ghost whispered in his ear and Dick twirled around, gasping and blinking at empty air. 

Fucking hallucinations. 

_"You don't have long."_

"Shut up," he groaned, closing and reopening his eyes as if something was stuck in them. "You aren't real." 

_"I don't have to be."_

Oh great, this one liked riddles. It was starting to sound more and more like Bruce with every passing moment. 

A hand gently stroked his greasy hair and Dick was across the room faster than a canary out a window. His lungs panted for air as he pressed himself tightly into the corner. Large eyes jumped at every shadow, every speck of dust, leaping around the room sporadically. He swatted at his hair, searching his hand for residue of some sort. It came back clean, no indication of being tampered with. "The hell...?" 

_"You can't hide."_

He squeezed himself deeper into the corner, legs pulled to his chest. "Shut up!" 

_"Can't sit around and wait. It's coming."_

"Who? Who's coming?" 

Suddenly the shadows gathered together, stretching up the wall. It grew taller and taller, forming the vague outline of a man. Dick shrunk away from it, unable to tear his eyes away as ears and then horns sprouted from the thing's head. Once it finished forming, it froze. Dick held his breath, hoping it wouldn't hear him. 

The thing's head flashed his direction, layers of red eyes opening to stare at him. 

He ducked, screaming. 

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

**LYNWOOD**   
**ILLINOIS**

"You sure you know where we're going?" Kory asked, holding her phone to her mouth. 

_"Hey, who's the one who upgraded your dumbass phone tracker app and actually found Dick?"_ Jason replied, his bike swerving around a pothole. 

She plowed right over it. 

Gar leaned forward from the middle seat. "He's a bit of an asshole." 

"Disappointed the new Robin isn't everything you hoped for?" Rachel teased. 

The boy stuck out his tongue at her. "Well, he's got a dope bike, at least." 

"And a fast one," Kory muttered. She raised the phone, Jason on speaker. "You want to slow down around those turns, maybe? We're not all on two wheels, you know." 

_"Do you want to get to him or not?"_

"I want to get to him as a..." She paused, unable and unwilling to use 'team' to describe their temporary alliance. "...Cohesive unit." 

"You sound like Dick," Rachel commented quietly. They had all heard it and wondered what it meant. Surely, they couldn't just up and invite this Jason kid into their "temporary alliance," not without Dick. Yeah, they all shared the same goal (to get Dick back) and enemy (Adamson and his people), but their bond went a lot deeper than that. Jason was here for Robin. Or, the former Robin. They were here for Dick because Dick was here for Rachel. It was a complicated web of dynamics, one they weren't sure if or where Jason fit in to. 

The bike slowed and Kory could stop flooring it for the first time since they had left the diner. "Thank you," she said into the phone. 

_"That wasn't for you,"_ Jason muttered back, his voice low and distant. He pulled to the side of the road and grabbed his League phone, checking the screen. Kory slowed to a stop next to him. 

"What's wrong?" she asked, leaning over Rachel. 

"Got a feeling," the teen mumbled. He pounded at the screen, swiping and typing. 

Kory rolled her eyes, looking away. Jesus, this kid. "Got any more information than that?" 

Suddenly, Rachel screamed. 

Jason yelped, twisting to her. "Jesus!" he gasped, watching dumbstruck as her friends bailed from the van, grabbing her and helping her out. She collapsed to the pavement on all four, vomiting harshly. Gar was stroking her back, Kory sighing and pushing at her hair nervously. 

"This happen often?" Jason asked. 

"She must have got a feeling." 

"She's an empath," Gar explained helpfully. "Uh, among other things." 

Rachel sucked in a breath, gasping loudly for air. "Dick!" she wheezed. "I felt him!" 

Kory knelt by her. "Where?" 

"I... I don't know. But he's close," the girl replied. Gar guided her into his arms and she collapsed against him tiredly. "And... I - I also felt..." 

"Easy," Kory cooed, stroking her hair. "Breathe, Rache. Take your time." 

Rocking nervously, she hyperventilated into Gar's jacket, short breaths loud and squeaky. "Him!" she finally managed. "I felt Him!" 

Gar met Kory's eyes, gulping nervously. "She doesn't mean...?" 

Jason inserted himself into the conversation, asking who "him" was. 

"Her father," Kory replied. "Rachel, you don't mean your father, do you? Did you feel him when you sensed Dick?" 

Lungs working like a flag in a hurricane, she nodded. 

Kory nodded solemnly to Gar. "We need to move." 

The boy agreed, dutifully helping Rachel stand and guiding her back to the van, instructing her calmly on how to breathe. 

"Hey, wait a minute!" Jason called after them, confused. "Who's her father? What's that got to do with anything?" 

"Just drive, Bird Boy!" Kory snapped as she fell into the driver's seat. 

Jason rolled his eyes at her. "Prick," he muttered, pocketing the phone. Kory honked at him and he yanked his helmet on, throwing a loud shrug back at her. He kicked his bike into life, skidding back onto the road. The van screeched after him, roaring to full speed. 

No one noticed the little red light of a motion sensor as they zoomed by.

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

**AGNEWS ASYLUM**   
**ILLINOIS**

Dawson was in Adamson's office, inspecting the space that would soon be hers. She dared to allow herself a moment of excitement, fingers brushing the fine wood of his desk. Her desk. Some might accuse her of being politically motivated in choosing to give him those fake brain scans. But she couldn't help herself. His groveling is what had really done it, begging for her to spare his life as gas filled Mr. Grayson's chamber. It was pathetic and weak. Adamson was outdated, a relic in these fast-paced times. 

She knocked a family portrait of his over, slamming it face down. 

He would never call her Caitlin ever again. No one would. They would refer to her as Dr. Dawson now and forever, just as she deserved. 

"Doctor?" an orderly asked, standing at attention in the doorway. 

She schooled her features back into place, cursing herself for basking in her own accomplishments. "What is it?" 

"He's ready." 

Her eyes lit up. Well, it was about time. "Prep him. And prepare another Family. His daughter is about to be ours." 

They left the office, the door closing securely behind them. On the desk, a red light beeped on the security panel.

No one was around to see it. 

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

_"I hear you are ready to comply, Mr. Grayson."_

His eyes slipped close, hiding from his shame. 

He nodded. 

_"You will tell us where the girl is?"_

"Yes," he choked, swallowing thickly. "God, yes. I'll do it! You hear me? I'll do it already." 

The intercom went quiet and his face crumbled, turning to hide behind his arms. 

"I'm sorry, Rachel," he cried. "I'm so sorry." 


	4. Chapter 4

**AGNEWS ASYLUM**   
**ILLINOIS**

The temporary alliance - and Robin - pulled to a stop outside the large facility, Jason quietly slipping off his bike, laptop in hand. The trio piled out of the van behind him, crouching and crawling forward. 

"Why are we stopping?" Kory asked.

"I can hack into their system from this range. Figure out where, exactly, they're keeping Dick." 

Gar ducked as a twig somewhere snapped. "And how long is that gonna take?" 

"A few minutes. Maybe five." 

Kory spun to him. "Five minutes?" 

"Hey, don't get snappy with me!" he hissed back. "If you want to storm all seven acres of that property, trip all of the alarms, and have to look through every single cell while fighting off who even knows how many guards, be my fucking guest." 

Eventually, Kory sighed. "Well, since we're stuck here for the next five minutes while Bird Boy does his thing-"

"Robin!"

"-Whatever. We might as well go over worst-case scenarios." 

Jason chuckled. "Oh, this ought to be good." 

"Sorry, who invited you again?" 

"Uh, sorry, how much combat training and tactical experience do you have?" 

"I..." She blinked those large green eyes at him. "I don't know." 

He frowned at her, fingers never faltering on the keyboard. "What do you mean you don't know?" 

She shrugged. "I mean I don't know. I lost my memory a while back. I don't remember a single thing about myself before a few weeks ago. Just that I was trying to find Rachel." 

"Are you serious?" 

She nodded. 

The teen made a face, blowing a sigh between his lips. "Jesus, I'm with a bunch of freaks," he muttered right before his screen lit up green. "I'm in." 

Gar balked at him. "Wait, seriously? Anyone else feel like that definitely wasn't five minutes?" 

"Yeah, might've lied about that part," Robin muttered. He pulled up the patient records, skimming for Grayson, R. "Holstead, Twaine, McMrimmons, Adamson-" 

"There's our guy!" Gar cheered. "Not Dick. I mean the guy he went after." 

Rachel nodded. "So he's definitely here. Dick, not that guy." 

"Why's he on the patient list, though?" Kory wondered and Jason scrolled back up, opening his file. He skimmed it, making an unimpressed face. "Doesn't say for sure. Just has some weird Doctor notes." A window on the screen blipped and Jason switched to it. "Who's Angela Azarath?" 

Rachel shrugged. "Don't know. Why?" 

"Because she's your mom." 

"What?" the trio gasped, Gar repeating what Jason had said, Rachel asking what he meant, and Kory telling everyone to shut up. 

She turned to Jason. "Why do you think that?" 

"Because that's what her file says?" He turned the laptop around, showing off the patient file to the crowd. Rachel gasped, tears filling her eyes. 

"Mom..." she squeaked. 

Kory blinked back her surprise, leaning forward to read. " 'Known relatives: Rachel Roth.' " 

"Wait," Gar interrupted. "How did you even find this?" 

"I searched for her. _Her_ , I mean," he said easily, nudging his chin to Rachel.

"You what?" Kory shouted. 

Jason looked at her flaming hair and quirked an unimpressed eyebrow. "What? I don't know you people. Only thing you've said so far that makes any sense is that the Adamson guy Dick was after works for her father. What was I supposed to do, _not_ check you out?" 

"I have to get her," Rachel said, the others quickly protesting. 

"Rache, we are here for Dick!" Kory reminded. "And this place is huge. We can't split up. We have to stay focused." 

"Kory, if my mother is in there, I have to save her! Who knows how long they've had her or what they've done to her. I... I can't just leave her. I won't. Besides, if Jason can find her cell like he can Dick's I can get in and out, no problem." 

"Absolutely not. I am not letting you roam around that place by yourself. What if you get caught?"

"I can take care of myself!" 

The trees started shaking, but since no one else seemed bothered by it, Jason decided not to bring it up.

"I'll go with her," Gar volunteered. 

Kory immediately shot him down. "No, no, we need to stay together. If we have to split up, we should distribute our strengths." 

Jason shook his head. "Hell no, don't look at me. I'm here for Dick. You all can work out your own drama without me." 

Kory was not a violent person (she was), but she was really starting to hate this kid. "Fine!" she sighed. "Fine, god! Gar, you'll go with Jason to find Dick." Rachel looked at her hopefully. "I'll go with Rachel to get her mom." 

"Thank you," the girl smiled, tears dripping down her round cheeks as Gar whooped, going in for a hive five with Robin. He was pointedly ignored. 

Kory grinned back at her. "Rachel, I just think you should prepare for the worst. And decide if you're really willing to trade Dick for your mom, if things go south." 

The girl wiped her face clean. "But it won't. Not with you there." When Kory hesitated, the kids frowned at her. "Kory?" 

"Anything you want to tell us?" Gar questioned. 

Chewing her lip, the woman looked away. Should she tell them about her powers? She hadn't lost them completely (at least, not yet) so was the extra stress really worth it? "Hopefully not," she finally said, shooting them a smile that Jason could see right through. "It just, helps to be prepared, you know? Just in case." 

"Yeah..." they agreed. "Just in case." 

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

The orderlies dragged Dick to a large empty room, his head hanging sadly. They dropped him on the hard mat in the middle of the space, retreating to the edge. He coughed weakly, slowly managing to get his legs under him, raising himself to his knees. 

Doors on the other end opened and Dr. Dawson entered with an entourage of scientists following, her ever-faithful clipboard in hand. "I hear you have good news for us, Mr. Grayson," she intoned, short heels stopping at the edge of the mat before him. 

Dick wobbled, but nodded. "I do," he admitted, keeping his eyes downcast. Dragging himself up, he managed a kneeling position, back and shoulders slumped. He couldn't believe he was about to do this.

The doctor shifted impatiently. "Well? Let's hear it." 

A shaky breath emerged from him, his soul weighed down with sorrow. Slowly, Dick extended his arms to the mat, fingertips pressed against it. His arms bent and he paused, breath hitching. This was it. There was no coming back after this. The ants gnawed at him and he embraced it, using the pain as an anchor. He tried to consider other options but knew he had none. There was only one way out of this. He sighed, mind made up.

"Goddamnit." 

Slowly, he leaned forward, arms bending at the elbows. Dawson watched with uncharacteristically greedy eyes as Dick Grayson knelt before her, forehead pressed to the cold hard mat. He shook from the exertion, arms trembling, but steadfastly held the pose. 

"I'm ready to open my mind," he said. "I'm ready to believe." 

The doctor had to catch her breath, remembering where she was. She schooled her features, swallowing down her excitement and saving it for unpacking later. Suck it, Adamson. "We're very glad to hear that, Mr. Grayson. And we welcome you into the Family with open arms. Now, tell us where the girl is." 

He shrunk with shame, despite his best efforts not to. "I... I can't." 

Dawson blinked at him. "You have no choice, Mr. Grayson. You must tell us." 

"..." 

She sighed. Handing over her clipboard, she approached the man, squatting at his shoulder. "This is for the greater good, Mr. Grayson. Surely, you must realize that by now. By resisting us, you are only making yourself an enemy of His." 

"Better an enemy of his than a friend of yours." 

"What?" 

Suddenly, Dick was springing forward. He pivoted behind her smoothly, arm snaking around her throat with a syringe clutched in his hand. His other hand slipped into her lab coat pocket, retrieving the vial she had tempted him with earlier. 

"Stay back!" he shouted, pulling her upright as he spun to face the orderlies. With shaky hands, he filled the syringe with the clear liquid, tossing the empty bottle away. He pressed the needle to her throat, staggering. "Tell them to back down," he demanded. The needle nicked her skin. "Tell them!" 

She swallowed, nodding. 

The orderlies straightened, taking several steps back. 

"What is your plan, Mr. Grayson?" she asked. "Do you intend to hold me hostage all the way to the front gate?" 

"Not exactly." 

Behind him, one of the scientists charged forward. Dick spun, but Dawson tripped him, sending him off balance. The scientist slapped him across the face with the metal clipboard and Dawson grabbed his arm, judo flipping him over her shoulder. He landed hard on his back, breath gone. Before he could recover, she grabbed his hand and plunged the needle into his heart, the liquid emptying into him. 

The room went still, Dawson realizing all too late what she had done. She gasped, releasing his hand. It uncurled slowly, falling away from the syringe stabbed into his chest. She blinked at him, watching as he deflated, his breathing slow and shallow. 

"This is what you wanted..." she muttered, realization hitting her as he eagerly accepted his fate. 

He nodded, eyes slipping shut. His limbs became cold and heavy, sinking into the hard mat. "S-sorry...," he breathed. 

"Mr. Grayson, I-" 

Sorry, Rachel. 

Her mouth snapped shut. What had she done? He was dead - or dying - right here before her, at her own hand. And with him went their only lead to finding the girl. Rachel Roth was gone to the wind and it was all her fault. The blaring alarms that suddenly sounded throughout the room were nothing compared to the thumping of her heart. She had planned it all so well, pulled on his strings like an expert puppet master, orchestrated the perfect downfall. And here he was, escaping her. 

The orderlies and scientists fled the room and she let them. She didn't deserve to be in their midst. She was a failure, a complete and total...

An animal roared behind her and she turned just in time to catch a Robin emblem to her forehead. 

Dr. Dawson slumped over, dead. 

Robin kicked her aside, dropping to his knees beside Dick. "Dick!" he called, shaking the man. He slapped his cheek, tearing his glove off with his teeth and checking for a pulse. After a long agonizing moment, he found it. "Shit!" he cursed, carefully inspecting the large syringe. 

Bones crunched and Gar stumbled to a stop behind him. "Shit? What shit? Is that a good shit or a bad shit?" 

Jason looked at him, quickly making a noise and turning away. "...Dude!" 

"What?" 

"Pants!" 

"Oh, yeah. Right." The boy padded off in search for some clothes as Jason continued him examination. Dick had a temperature, matching burn marks on his temples, and very cold feet. But otherwise no apparent injuries. Which meant that whatever had done him in was whatever had been in that needle. 

"Think I found something!" Gar raced back, clutching a loose pair of scrubs around his waist. He handed over a small glass vial. "Was just lying over there. Looked like someone had-" 

"Thrown it!" Robin interrupted, snatching the bottle. He twisted it, reading the label. "Mothinrex... okay, this is good!" He spun to his feet, rushing for the nearby medicine cabinet. 

"It is? How is it good?" 

"Because if we know what it is, we know the antidote." Jason looked up. "Behind you!"

Gar spun, barely missing the business end of a stun baton. He stumbled to a stop, looking at the orderly in confusion. The man charged again and Gar scrambled away, tripping over the large pants. 

"A little help!" 

Robin ignored him, reading labels and throwing vials away. "Figure it out, you're a big boy!" 

Gar ducked under another swing, leaping away to put some distance between them. The man paused, looking down at Dick's body. He rose the baton, electric tip buzzing. "Don't even think about it!" Gar roared, pouncing through the air.

Jason paused his search, watching in morbid horror as the green tiger landed on the man, tearing a chunk out of his neck. He screamed, choking on his own blood, but the tiger picked him up in its powerful jaws, flinging him across the room. He landed far away from Dick, wailing in pain. Jason flinched as the tiger tore open the man's chest, spraying blood and intestines everywhere. Once the man stopped sceaming, Gar transformed back, blood and shreds of muscle clinging to him. 

"Hellacious," Robin praised, jogging over to Dick's body with a selection of vials and bottles. He grabbed his League phone and opened a menu, searching for the antidote to what Dick had been given by the drug name. Gar joined him on the other side, pulling the scrubs back on and sitting quietly. 

Jason glanced at him. "You, uh..." He tapped his chin. "You got a little something on your..." 

"Oh," the boy gulped, smearing the blood across his bare arm. He looked back, silently asking if he had got it all. 

Jason made a face, giving him a thumbs up because he looked totally sick and absolutely wasn't going to give the teen nightmares for a week. Finally, he found the right bottle and grabbed a clean syringe, following the instructions on the phone as he filled it. 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Gar interrupted, waving a hand. "You aren't giving him that, are you?" 

Jason blinked at him. "Uh, yeah, I am." 

"But we don't know what else he could have in his system - we don't even know for sure if that's the bottle or not!" 

"But we don't _not_ know." 

"That doesn't help! If anything, we shouldn't be giving him anything at all!" 

Jason looked at him. "So you'd rather, just, what? Sit here with our thumbs up our asses and _hope_ he pulls through?" 

"No, but-" 

"Good. So how about you shut the hell up and let me do my job, huh? I'm Robin here, not you." He reached forward with the syringe, but Gar's hand shot out, wrapping tightly around his wrist. 

"But I'm his friend," he growled back, making the teen pause. Jason blinked at him, taken aback by the sudden intensity from the happy-go-lucky kid.

Before they could argue any further, Dick surged to life, eyes flying open. He convulsed as tried to breathe, lungs battling between pulling or pushing. Rolling to one side, he promptly vomited all over the mat, groaning loudly. It had worked. Adamson had said they hadn't given him what they had to Dick, and he looked fine. It was a huge gamble, but Dick was willing to bet the stuff in the other vial had been fine, restorative even. 

He had won the game. 

"Whoa!" Jason yelped, scurrying away to avoid getting puked on. Gar was unperturbed, though, reaching around to hold Dick's shoulder. 

"Dick?" he asked, shaking the man. "Can you hear me?" 

Dry heaving left him panting harshly, sweaty and exhausted. But alive. Dick collapsed against the cold hardness of the mat, burrowing his face into it for comfort against his fever. 

"Dick!" Gar tried again and the man frowned, peeling open his eyes to look at the gore covered face of the boy. Slowly, he recognized him, eyes widening in terror.

"Gar!" he exclaimed breathlessly, hand reaching up weakly to touch the boy's bloody jaw. Gar grabbed it (it was so cold), squeezing tightly. 

"Yeah, dude. Yeah, we came. You're gonna be fine." 

"And now we have to leave," an unfamiliar voice said from behind and Dick turned, frowning curiously. 

Robin stared back at him. Fucking _Robin_ stared back at him. 

It smirked. "Sup, dude?" 


	5. Chapter 5

Rachel, Kory, and Angela ran through another long hallway, the girl catching a glimpse of red and green around the corner. 

"Hey, guys!" she called, rounding it to find Gar, Robin, and was that...

"Dick!" she gasped, rushing forward and throwing herself into his arms. He stumbled slightly but held on, squeezing affectionately and stroking her hair.

Kory smiled at Dick as she and Angela approached. They had found a wide gate blocking their path and were forced to stop as Jason tried to hack it. Dick nodded, smiling quietly at her. 

"Are you okay? What did they do to you?" Rachel asked, pulling back and looking him over. She frowned, touching his forehead. "You're burning up!"

"Yeah, we found him with a slight fever," Jason interrupted.

Gar blinked. "Uh, also, he was kind of dead," he added because that seemed a little more important. 

"What?" Kory asked. She pushed forward, slapping a warm palm to Dick's forehead and peeling his eyelids open, peering into the blown orbs. "Jesus, Dick. How high are you?" 

"Hi," he greeted cheekily because where was the warm, tender affection?

"Not high," Gar squeaked out. "Drugged." 

"Yeah, with a whole shitload of stuff." Jason handed over the vial they had found. Angela went for it and he pulled back, glaring at her. 

"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry," she apologized quickly, withdrawing her hand. 

Rachel moved to her side, hand on her arm reassuringly. "It's okay, Mom." 

Gar looked up. "Oh. So this is her, huh?" 

"Uh, yeah. Gar, Jason-" 

"Robin...!" 

"-This is Angela." 

"Rachel's mother," the woman corrected sweetly, pulling the girl into her side with a fond smile. 

Rachel waved a hand. "And this is Dick." 

He smiled at the woman, nodding politely against Kory's palm. Suddenly, he heard a commotion down the hall and moved her hand away, turning. Kory followed, quickly spotting some scientists. They fled like cockroaches, disappearing into hallways and down other corridors.

"We need to keep moving," Dick instructed. "We don't have much time." It wouldn't be long before their position was passed down the line and he had a feeling some of the orderlies might still be a little mad at him for breaking their noses. 

Rachel stepped forward, swiping an ID badge into the gate's lock. It beeped and opened, Kory (and Dick) ushering the group through. 

Kory stepped through to follow, but Dick touched her arm, squinting at her in confusion. 

"Her mom?" 

"I'll explain later." She took his hand, holding it as they followed the others. 

A few yards in and he pulled back, slowing to a stop. 

"Dick?" the woman wondered, frowning at him. He glanced at her, then after the others, and slipped into an open cell. She was pulled in after him, scoffing in confusion. 

His other hand gripped the tall cot in the center of the small room, but he was looking up, at a hissing pipe. "Gas," he informed. "Won't ignite right away, but should lead to the main system." He turned to her. "Do you have enough? We just need a spark." 

Pushing her hair back, she hesitated, unwilling to say for sure. "I, I don't know. How do you know it's even flammable?" 

He sighed, twisting to inspect the small room. "This was my cell. At least, it was at first." 

"This?" she asked, shocked by its size and general grossness. 

"Yeah. I spent a lot of time smelling _that_ gas. Believe me, it'll go up." 

The woman watched him, scrutinizing his every move. He worked his jaw and she could instantly tell he was willing but reluctant. Not that she understood why; he was covered in old and fresh sweat, smelled of piss and vomit, and looked bone dry of blood. She couldn't imagine how he was feeling, trying to hide how he struggled to stand, much less run, from the kids. Still, it was his war. His vendetta. If he wanted to burn it all to the ground, she was more than happy to lend a spark. 

"We doing this?" she asked. 

He swallowed tensely, cheeks drawn and pale. Then, he nodded and the steel in his large eyes was all the convincing she needed it. "Burn it down," he instructed and she had to take a moment because wow revenge made him look really hot. 

"Okay, then." 

He stumbled out of the room, calming the confused gaggle of people wondering where he and Kory had disappeared to. The woman settled in place, letting the rage of the room - hell, of the whole damn situation - boil inside her skin. 

Dick turned when she exited, and she gave him exactly one nod. "It's done." 

He returned it somberly. 

"What's done?" Rachel asked. 

"We have to move," Dick said instead, waving the group forward. Kory joined him, a pillar at his side to catch and support. 

"We only have a few minutes," she added. 

Gar hiked up his pants. "A few minutes until what?" 

The adults shared a knowing look. "Boom," Dick supplied helpfully. Suddenly, his left leg gave out. Kory scrambled for him, barely stopping him from eating it. Whimpering, he clenched his leg, forcing quick breaths through his teeth. 

"What's going on?" Rachel wondered, pale eyes wide with panic and concern. 

"They must have given him something," Angela said. 

Jason presented the vial again. "Yeah, that's what we've been saying." 

The blonde woman looked at it, remembering her manners and asking permission before picking it from his fingers. She read the label, frowning at it. 

"What?" Gar squeaked, very much not liking that look. "What's wrong?" 

"This chemical. It shouldn't cause these kinds of reactions." 

Dick screamed in pain as another cramp tore his leg apart. 

"Well clearly, it does," Kory snapped. 

He waved at her. "No! No, something... earlier..." He shouted again, back stiffening as he tipped to the floor. He landed hard on his back, curling best he could against the pain. 

Jason glanced at his phone. "We're still three more hallways out." 

"I can make it!" Dick grunted tightly. Baring his teeth, he rolled to his right side, hoisting himself to his elbows. 

Kory's long hands wrapped around his shoulders, guiding him upright. "Are you sure?" 

He nodded. "Or... you leave me." 

A choruses of emphatic "no!"s shook the rafters and they would have warmed his heart if he could feel anything beyond the pounding of his own heart. Kory helped him against the wall, and he slammed against it, holding his breath as he struggled not to hyperventilate. 

"We're almost there, Dick," Rachel pleaded. "You can make it." 

Gar nodded. "Yeah. Kory will carry you." 

The woman scoffed, looping Dick's arm over her shoulders. "I'm flattered that you think I'm that strong." She pulled them upright and he yelled, forced to put weight on his leg. "You good?" 

Head bowed and eyes squeezed shut, he nodded. If he dared to open them he would pass out. If he dared to think too hard he would throw up. He ignored anything he didn't need, narrowing his world only to Kory's body under his arm and the hard tile under his feet. If he focused on breathing and walking, he might make it out of this alive. 

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

"There!" Jason shouted, pointing forward. "Just up ahead." The exit was so close, they could almost taste fresh air. It made Dick's knees go weak, but he forced himself to stay upright, the pain of doing so tearing him apart. 

"Hurry," Kory urged, readjusting his arm around her shoulder. He should apologize for being such a heavy burden, for putting so much weight on her. She was strong, but he was heavy and doing very little to help. They found themselves in yet another hallway, a fire exit just up ahead. It was close, so close, and they were gaining on it rapidly. 

A noise caught Gar's attention and he slowed, ears twitching. 

"Gar, come on!" Rachel urged, but he waved her off, frowning curiously. 

"Do you guys hear that?" 

Suddenly, they did, noticing what sounded like someone pounding on a heavy door. A man was yelling on the other side. 

Jason spotted a cell door and stepped toward it. "Over here-" 

"Stay back!" Dick shouted. The teen scrambled from the door. Dick untangled himself from around Kory, hand against the wall as stumbled to the cell. 

The door had a small window in it with a pale old man peering through. He saw Dick approach and his dark eyes lit up hopefully. "Oh, Mr. Grayson!" he sighed. Dick pulled his large eyes up, cold and hard as he glared at the man. "You have to help me, Mr. Grayson! They've locked me up and intend to kill me. They believe I've failed them! That I've failed Him!" 

Dick breathed heavily, staring and refusing to react to the desperate pleas. "Rachel." 

The girl blinked. Dick waved her over and she stepped to him, fingers intertwining with his. The old man's eyes flickered to her and widened in amazement. 

"Rachel..." he breathed, pawing at the glass. She shrunk into Dick's side, shuddering at the look the man gave her. 

Dick straightened, looking down his nose at the old man. "Rachel. Everyone. This is Dr. Adamson." 

Rachel's eyes shot to the old man, the others tensing angrily. 

" _That's_ Adamson?" Gar gaped, feeling Kory heat up beside him. 

"That's Adamson," Dick repeated bitterly.

"Mr. Grayson, please," the doctor cooed, voice dripping with sweetness. "I understand we've had our differences in the past, but please, you must get me out of here. You can't just leave me to them!" 

Rachel looked up at Dick, eyes searching his. "Are we?" 

The man considered it, a slew of thoughts whirling around in his cobweb of a mind. Here stood the man responsible for all of this, trapped and at his absolute mercy. The man who had orchestrated every one of their recent tragedies, who had bent heaven to make their lives a living hell. He had pulled strings, pushed buttons, and forced them to dance for his entertainment. 

Kory's flame met the main gas lines and exploded, rocking the whole building. 

The crowd staggered, each of them except Dick regaining their balance. He stood statue still, eyes boring into Adamson. The man paled further as the cell shook, turning to Dick, groveling for mercy. 

Fate wasn't in control of Adamson's death. Dick was. 

"Dick, we got to move," Robin reminded. 

Adamson seemed to realize they were going to leave him. "No! No, you can't!" Dick's head twitched, tipping the man over the edge. His face grew red, unbridled rage overtaking him. " _NO_!" he shrieked, pounding on the door. Kory lunged forward, pulling Rachel back protectively. Dick didn't flinch, letting her go. "You can't do this! Not to me! I - I built this place! I made you come here! I'm the reason you're still alive!" 

"Dick..." Gar warned as the building shook again, another explosion rocking the walls. The booms were getting closer and louder; one more and they would be up in flames. 

"We have to go!" Angela urged, breaking pose and moving to the fire exit. "Come on, dear," she said, pulling Rachel with her. Kory let her go, corralling Gar to the door. The Robins were left alone in the hallway. Dick watching Adamson and Jason watching Dick. 

"Save me!" the doctor demanded, pounding on the glass.

Suddenly Dick was back in Gotham, dressed in his old uniform, watching Tony Zucco beg and plead for his life. That man had deserved to die. And so did this one. 

"No." 

Adamson paled, unable to believe it. 

Dick broke eye contact and moved to the door. He didn't make it a step before his face screwed in pain and he tipped forward. Jason caught him, supporting his weight easily. Dick nodded his thanks. He offered a hand. 

"Dick," he said, introducing himself. 

"Jason. I'm-" 

"The new Robin?" 

The teen shrugged, smirking proudly. "In the flesh. Nice to meet you, bro."

Dick rolled his eyes, sighing deeply. He was way too drugged to deal with this right now. Jason helped him to the door, where the others gathered impatiently. 

"What about Adamson?" Gar asked quietly, still the sweet innocent child. 

Dick shook his head. 

"We need to go," Kory interjected. She stepped forward and slammed her knee into the lock. It clattered to the floor. 

.,.,.,.,.,.,.,

The asylum exploded, the crowd of heroes flinching at the giant fireball from where they were scattered across the wide lawn. Kory held Dick tightly to her, Angela wiping relieved tears from her eyes and hugging Rachel. Gar stood off to the side, arms wrapped around his stomach and Jason was at the edge of the trees, walking the line between coming and going. 

Kory looked down at Dick, flames dancing in his tired eyes. "Any parting thoughts?" she asked. 

The man looked up, fire catching in his tears. "Burn in Hell." 

The woman laughed. "Couldn't agree more." She looked over their mismatched troop.

Damn, they were going to need a bigger ride. Their van was filling up quickly. 

Dick convulsed suddenly, pulling away from her. "Put me down," he muttered, knees already landing in the grass. He fell to his hands, vomiting weakly. This wasn't his first time emptying his stomach today, and his captors hadn't fed him two days, so there was little to come out except sticky bile. Still, he wheezed around it, leaning heavily on his arms. He was so tired. 

A hand rubbed his back and he recognized the long fingers. He hummed a noise he hoped sounded appreciative, glad to realize that the rest of them were keeping a respectable distance. It was unbearable, being this weak and useless. They should have left him inside to rot. At least that way Rachel would be far away from these people and not on their doorstep. 

"Here, bro."

He looked up and found Jason offering a granola bar and water. Suddenly, he was a kid again, Bruce lecturing him for not eating his protein in the middle of patrol and paying the price a couple of hours later as his stomach protested hungrily. He tried and failed to reach for it, Kory taking it instead and saving him the effort. 

"Thanks," she nodded, smiling nicely at the teen. 

He shrugged, pretended it didn't matter and retreated a few steps, hands pocketed moodily. 

Kory held the water to his lips and he downed it slowly, spitting out the remaining bile and being careful not to get sick all over again. Then, she tore the wrapper off the bar, offering it. Dick shook his head, swatting her hand away.

"Later." 

"Dick-" 

"Later," he insisted and his throat gurgled again at the mere thought of eating. She caved, rewrapping it and tucking it away. 

"Later," she repeated and he nodded, promising. He would eat. He wanted to, more than anything. But training won out over stomach and there was no point in downing food only to suffer throwing it back up a moment later. Once his stomach had settled, he would start small, broths and toast, and slowly work up to big boy food again. But not right now. Not for a long while.

Rachel knelt by his side and he looked at her curiously. She was frowning in concern and he took her hand to squeeze it reassuringly. 

"You okay?" he asked, shifting to sit on his hip and give his legs a break. Goddamn ants. 

She nodded. "Yeah. I, uh..." She glanced back at Angela, who urged to her continue. "I think I can help." 

"How?" Kory asked. 

Her pale eyes redirected to Dick's. "I think, I might have healing powers. I might be able to heal you. At least, somewhat." 

Kory blinked at her. "What?" 

"Rache..." Dick began, looking apprehensive. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea." 

"I think it is!" Angela argued, stepped forward. They looked at her and she shrunk back, playing with her hands. "I, I'm sorry to interrupt. It's just that, I know what Rachel is capable of. I knew her father and if she's anything like him... She should be able to heal you." 

He considered it, eyes shifting back to the girl. If he could feel better, yes, do it, obviously, but Rachel was still new to her powers. Chances of her messing up, or of this Angela woman being wrong, were high. 

Sensing his indecision, Rachel met his eyes sternly. "I can do this. Or, I can at least try. _Please,_ Dick. It's my fault that this happened-" 

He and Kory cut her off immediately, protesting loudly. 

"Come on, don't start with that, okay?" Dick said, palm planting itself on the girl's shoulder. She squeezed his wrist, swallowing back emotions. "None of this is your fault. I'm the dummy who went off on my own, okay? It was reckless and I shouldn't have done it. But Rache, you - you can't apologize for being born. And you shouldn't. Those people inside? They acted like they knew you, who you are, but they didn't. Not like I do. Not like _we_ do." His large eyes looked at her imploringly, his strong hand finally slipping up to cup her jaw. He leaned forward and tilted her face down, planting a loving kiss to her forehead. "I don't want to hear you apologize for being yourself, okay? Not ever." 

Sobbing, she nodded, falling forward to give him a tight hug. 

"Watch the - watch the puke," he chuckled, returning the hug and guiding her knees from his discarded stomach acid. She repositioned and pulled back, staring intensely into his eyes. 

"Let me help you." 

He considered it, made a show thinking it was a bad idea. But they could all see right through it. Rachel Roth was Dick Grayson's biggest weakness and, try as he might, he could never say no to her. 

"Okay," he agreed finally. "Okay, but be careful, alright? Don't hurt yourself." 

She shook her head at him. "Right, because I can't possibly fuck you up any more than you already are." 

They chuckled and he had to give her that one. "Touché. What do you need me to do?" 

Sighing, she grabbed his hands, placing them firmly in his lap. "Just, uh, relax." She sat on her legs, straddling his knees, and reached for his temples. 

Hissing, he pulled away, hands hovering above the burnt skin. And, goddamnit, there was the migraine again, waiting for the first chance to rear its ugly head. 

"Sorry!" 

"No, it's, it's not you." 

Jason crossed his arms. "Shock therapy?" he guessed. 

Dick swallowed, nodding. "Some." 

"Jesus," Kory groaned, turning away. She glared at the asylum and wished she could burn it all over again. 

He waved them off, focusing back on Rachel. "It's fine. Sorry for scaring you. Just, be gentle?" 

Thoroughly rattled and pissed but trying to remain calm, she pulled in a breath. She positioned her fingers around the welts, clutching his head tightly between her hands. He watched her for a moment, then remembered that a watched pot never boils (or something?) and slipped his eyes closed. They exhaled together, slowly, deliberately, and she pushed. 

A gust of wind swept across the grass, tossing the flames and kicking leaves around. They stumbled against the unexpected force, Angela shivering in her thin shirt. Gar offered her his jacket, slipping it around her shoulders. Jason and Kory kept their eyes glued to the scene before them, watching in fascination. Kory waited for something to go wrong. Jason just tried to figure out how the fuck her powers worked. 

Dick and Rachel gasped suddenly, falling apart. Angela rushed to her daughter, wiping her hair back and cradling her. Kory met Dick on the ground, hovering closely as he coughed into the dirt, sucking in air like he had never breathed before. 

"Did it work?" Robin asked. 

Rachel turned to Dick, watching carefully. Eventually, he stilled against the grass, body deflating peacefully. "Dick...?" she called.

Kory shook the man's shoulders. "Dick?" Leaning forward, she listened for his breathing. It was steady and strong. His pulse was the same. She laughed, falling to her butt. Her green eyes turned to Rachel and she smiled so, so proudly. "You did it. He's asleep." 

"He is?" 

"Probably for the first time in a while." 

Angela squealed in delight, cupping her girl's face. "I'm so proud of you!" she exclaimed, pulling her in for a tight hug. 

"Nice going, Rache," Gar congratulated brightly. 

Kory sighed, watching the scene fondly. She still didn't trust Angela - or maybe she was just sad to lose Rachel so easily - but it was obvious the girl was smitten by her. And who was Kory to get in the way of that? She looked over to Gar, his poor face still stained with the remnants of blood and guts. Jason was growing nervous, having been standing in one place too long. A rough-around-the-edges kind of kid, but he had more than proven himself in her eyes. And, at her knees, Dick Grayson, the absolute bastard, sleeping deeply and peacefully, surrounded by his friends and loved ones. 

Snow began to fall around them, tiny flakes dancing in the air, caught up in the flames of their biggest enemy's funeral pier. 

Maybe it would all be okay. 


End file.
